Snow White and the Rise of the Gilded Throne
by Ben Alexander
Summary: As her reign begins, Snow White struggles to carry the weight of her kingdom and remain independent, through refusing marriage. She fears that she may become corrupted by power, like her predecessor, whose shadow still overhangs the throne. As Snow White faces a malignant and uncertain path, parallels between her life and Ravenna's are drawn, as dark forces plot to overtake her.
1. Coronation

_**Snow White and the Rise of the Gilded Throne **_

_**Chapter One: Coronation **_

"The Queen is dead! Long live the Queen!"

The (altered) standard proclamation was accompanied by the toll of heavy iron bells from the highest towers of the castle, ironically including the North Tower, where the current ruler had formerly been imprisoned, prior to her flight, which was now destined to become legendary. They had begun promptly at noon, with no sign of being discontinued till at least midnight, as though the people needed more convincing of the events that had recently transpired. Although the pronouncement was clearly heard throughout the castle grounds and the accompanying village, its reiteration only served to give the merrymakers in the town more reason to celebrate, as ale poured freely from the village inn, and dancing was held in the streets.

In the castle itself, the throne room had been transformed for the occasion of the coronation, the first ceremony of its kind in several decades, since the late King Magnus'. The results were striking, bringing warm and inviting qualities to the room that had lacked them for so long. No longer did the room have the somber and grizzly appearance, offered by its former ruler; following Ravenna's demise, Snow White herself had plucked up the strange mirror that had overhung the room and, unsure of its purpose, had demanded that it be shut away out of sight. The men who had fought to secure Ravenna's reign had encountered a similar fate, and been imprisoned to avoid further opposition and bloodshed. The witnesses today ranged in rank from the nobility to the working class, some having traveled far and wide to witness the young princess crowned Queen.

"Lowlifes and thieves welcomed with open arm," Lord Thomas whispered to his wife, eyeing the seven dwarfs who had been awarded with titles of nobility for their involvement in the recent battle, "Well, Ravenna wouldn't have stood for it, I can say that much of her."

Lady Amicia smiled darkly at the joke they shared, as she rose a goblet of wine to her lips, "Snow White doesn't believe in class ranks," she replied, "She believes in equality for all men."

"She is a pretty thing, but that's as far as she goes. However she defeated her predecessor and reclaimed the throne in her father's name, I'll never know. Her politics precede her, and I do not care for them, whatsoever. 'Equality for all men?' What's next? She'll have us supping with the beasts from the Dark Forest."

"Bite your tongue," Amicia instructed, "She approaches."

Snow White walked down the center of the room, trailed by her guard and train; the crown balanced perfectly on her head, framed by her ebony locks and rosy cheeks. However, the traditional coronation garb drew attention to her small and slight frame, as if this warrior queen had been reduced to a mere fairy tale. As her guests bowed before her, Snow White allowed herself to smile at them, stern and serene, though she avoided the intent gaze of the Huntsman who had fought alongside her in battle.

"She won't last a year," Thomas decided as the doors closed behind her.

"Do not doubt the prospects of a modern woman," Amicia reprimanded, deciding the matter for the both of them.

"The Queen is dead! Long live the Queen!"

"It's a bit of a contradiction, for the untrained ear, wouldn't you say?" Duke Hammond whispered to his son, following the Queen's departure from the throne room.

"Well, the news traveled far and wide after Ravenna's body was dispersed of," William retorted, "Snow White could have been crowned without ceremony, and they would have accepted her as the rightful ruler, all the same. It's only tradition"

"Little tradition in this whole affair, the spectacle of it all," Hammond retorted, waving the matter off, "Even taking into consideration the events that led her here, all that I can think of is that she's without a husband. And that does not sit well with me."

"And she shan't take one," William decided, "I've known Snow— the Queen— since we were children. She shan't be married off, or bartered off like chattel. She spent God knows how many years locked up from the world, and she won't allow herself to be imprisoned like that again. She's of her own mind, and shall take pride in her independence, and the strength of her state."

"Be that as it may, that mind of hers can be made to be extremely malleable in the knowledgable hands. When all is said and done, she shall come to realize how much of a valuable asset I can be to her. She's appointed myself to the head of her council, which was very commendable, on her part."

"As I'm aware."

"And I shan't stand idly by, and watch her bring ruin with her reign."

"The land will prosper under her rule," William urged defiantly.

"An inexperienced ruler is just as dangerous as a tyrant— perhaps even more so. And this land is tired of unfit rulers... She needs the strength and stability that a husband entails, or she'll be overthrown by some neighboring kingdom or another. And where Ravenna was lecherous and cruel, Snow White is chaste and kind. That's trouble, too."

"She led an entire army... And she will not be toppled over by the desires of any man."

"I do not see her in the same light as you, my son. As such, I will make it my utmost duty to push marriage upon her— and I am sure that she will acquiesce to my prompting, in time."

"And who do you propose she marries, Father? One of the seven dwarfs— perhaps Coll, or Duir, would not be opposed to the match."

"Do not patronize me, William. Isn't it obvious who she's poised to marry?"

William looked over in the general direction of Eric, and drank deeply from his goblet, "I haven't the faintest idea whom she would marry, Father."

"Why, you, my son! And I thought you were intelligent."

"Me?" William asked, "Father, I daresay you've lost your mind."

"The people will want a King, William... A man of noble blood— true nobility, that is, and I know in my heart that you are perfectly suited to the task. In any case, she'll want an heir to establish her bloodline... And warrior or not, no woman can carry a child without the use of a man. That is her single shortcoming that will ultimately convince her to marry, and I will ensure that we have a foothold on the throne, as we rightfully deserve."

"If you're so concerned with her finding a husband, why don't you marry her?"

"If I were a much younger man, and without care for the future of my son, perhaps I would."

"Do not flatter yourself, Father. You're far from her type, I'm afraid."

In her bedchambers on the other side of the castle, Snow White dismissed her guard, then seated herself before a table that had previously belonged to her mother. She had chosen to have Ravenna's former rooms boarded up, knowing that they carried too many dark memories which threatened her own constitution during the first days of her reign as Queen. Furthermore, she hoped to rebuild her father's summer castle, and move court there permanently, in order to evade constant reminders of her stepmother's monarchy. She smiled at the sight of her reflection in a small mirror, raising the glass upwards; though she was far from vain, it was comforting to know that she could always be assured of her identity through her face looking back at her. Indeed, she must now grow accustomed to an even more unfamiliar sight— the image of the crown perched upon her head.

"Troubled days are ahead," she decided, setting the mirror down again, "I only hope that I may endure them," she clenched her fists tightly, feeling her stomach churn with uncertainty.

She heard a soft knock on the door, and promptly looked up again. She knew now that whatever lay ahead, she must look the part. She knew now that she must never falter in front of her people, or her council; she would have her moments of weakness, only when she could afford them, when she was concealed away from them. She glanced at her reflection once more, pinching her cheeks to return the color to them.

"Yes?" she called, deciding to rise, in order to appear more regal.

"My Lady," Greta whispered, stepping forward into the room, and closing the door behind her again, "You look beautiful. A true beauty among Queens."

"That is very kind, Greta. But, stations do not exist amongst friends, as I've told you. You are to call me by my true name. I shan't have you addressing me as 'Your Highness' and such."

"Your defiance astounds me, Queen— Snow," Greta replied; having been rescued from the North Tower following Ravenna's death, Greta had been appointed to Snow White's chief lady-in-waiting, and had been given the room accompanying the Queen's.

"You've a visitor before dinner is served in the Great Hall."

Snow White frowned, "Who?"

"The head of your council."

"Ah, Hammond. Well, bring him in."

Greta nodded, and retreated outside again; a few moments later, Lord Hammond strode into the room, "You look breathtaking, my Queen. Simply breathtaking."

"Lord Hammond, you embarrass me with these kind words. Won't you have a seat?"

"Yes, I daresay I have the time to afford myself such a luxury," he glowered slightly, and took the seat that she had offered him.

"I was just taking my leave of the crowd for a moment to collect myself," Snow White explained, "Today is long and strenuous... Much more strenuous than battle, in some ways."

Lord Hammond's frown did not break at the joke, "Well, you've fooled everyone into thinking that you have the graces of a true woman raised her entire life to take the throne... The battle hero has been retired with her armor, and I much prefer the sight of you in robes and gowns."

"My armor suits me well," she replied, thoughtfully, "And I would gladly take up my chain-mail, my shield, and my sword again, if my men must follow me into battle."

"Spoken as your father's daughter... Though I cannot say that he would enjoy the sight of his only daughter dirtying her hands on the field."

"Lord Hammond, do not speak out of line with me. You have served me well, and have been rewarded handsomely... But I shan't stand for you to make such presumptions about my father. I am his own flesh and blood, not yours. You can speak to William about what his father expects of him, because that is your place in this world. As the leader of my council, you shall speak to me as your ruler, and as if I were my father himself returned to the flesh. My sex is of little value to me."

"I did not mean to offend you, my Queen," Hammond replied, surprised at her intensity, "I only meant—"

"Whatever you meant, I do not have the luxury of being subjected to it. So, I must ask you to take leave of my chamber, unless you have better reason to be here."

"I only meant to instruct you on one area in which you do not meet the people's needs, my Queen.. And in doing so, you fail your own stability on the throne. A throne so fraught in deceit and woe, you have a much more difficult task of washing the blood away from it."

Here, he paused dramatically, and Snow White eyed him incredulously, furrowing her brow.

"Well?" she demanded, "What on earth is it?"

"My Queen, you are an exceedingly capable ruler... And are very much loved by the people you have rescued from Ravenna's tyranny. However, you are compromised by one pitfall, and it would be against your better judgment to ignore it outrightly. In order to remain a formidable leader, you must marry a capable man, and produce an heir."

"No," she replied derisively, "I shall not be married off just to appease you. If that's all you have to say, I must again ask that you leave my sight. You are my advisor, but you shall not choose a King when he is unnecessary."

"You do not understand, Queen. A woman cannot carry an entire kingdom on her own."

"Then I shall have to do my best to disprove that myth, my dear Lord Hammond. And, I shall sooner eat my crown than have you choosing bedmates for me."


	2. The Nomad King

**_Chapter Two: The Nomad King_**

In broad daylight, on horses, they came.

They had come down on her small village, had overpowered them so effortlessly— and without mercy. She had watched in horror as they slaughtered women who still clutched babes to their breasts, screaming for their mothers' milk as they were slain. They had been stripped of life without dignity; she came to understand at an early age that dignity had no place in death, and she would come to expect it every waking hour of her life for many years thereafter, in the uncertain times laid out before her. But, she had been salvaged; somehow, she had been afforded her own miserable and meager life, by the same man who had decided to take it upon himself to destroy everything. She almost wished to end her miserable life; to break free of the binds that contained her to his horse, and dash her body against the rocks. But, another part of her was determined to find defiance, and reclaim the agency that had been denied to her in this sudden raid. If she had learned one thing from her mother, it was that she needn't be powerless amongst men... She could find resilience and endurance inside of her, like molten iron boiling inside of her veins. Whatever occurred, she could not succumb to these men; she must find a way back to those she loved, and her mother had given her the key— but she did not yet know if it was to be a blessing or a curse.

They had snatched her away from her mother and brother, and the young girl found herself in the company of men with unknown names, and faces that stood for brutality. The hooves of their powerful horses thundered across the landscape, sending jolts up throughout her spine, and making her violently sick to her stomach; she had vomited over the side of the horse three times that day, still swallowing the lingering caustic taste of her own blood. Her honey-colored hair, the pride of her mother, had become matted to her scalp with sweat, for she perspired profusely in her rational fear of these beastly men. All of them were giants to her... These Northern men who had effectively obliterated her childhood in one pitiless raid on her village. They had come without warning, as if they had descended from the clouds, like the gods her mother had woven intricate tales of morality about.

_"By fairest blood was it done, and only by fairest blood can it be undone."_

The words echoed in Ravenna's mind, but she could not derive meaning from them, though they were all she could concentrate on; and although they were the only conscious thoughts she could muster, she could not find it in herself to make sense of them. Her mother may have well spoken in a foreign tongue altogether. Those words were the last chains that linked her to her mother, the woman who had given her life, and had summoned the dark magic of some unnamed force to provide her safety, and she did not know whether to think this specter a god or devil; she had been raised to know all her life that there was no clear divide between "good" and "wicked," that the nature of magic obliterated any distinctions. For all she knew, her mother had invoked the aid of something even more terrifying than these men; her mother may have damned both of their spirits to an eternity of hellfire and suffering. As Ravenna struggled to maintain a firm grip onto the man's waist, her stomach ached with hunger, and she sensed that her small body was covered in bruises from the rough and uneven path that they tore through villages, and abandoned campsites of other nomadic tribes who had fled for reasons unknown to her.

The men on horses spoke in a language that she could not recognize, and sometimes shot her knowing glances, as if there was an acknowledged fate for her— a clear reason that she had been plucked off of the ground by this gruff and unyielding man. As she clutched onto the bearish man who had seized her, and they galloped over miles of roughened terrain, her stomach churned with unease, and what would certainly prove to be her mother's final words to her reverberated in her skull. She did not know her purpose there; some of the other men had taken children her age and older, and she hoped that they were only meant to be slave girls. She did not know the fate of her mother and brother, nor did she care to ask; she conceptualized that their village had been torched to the ground, as was customary for warring tribes who had overthrown other communities; if her sibling and mother had been compliant and cautious, there was a good chance that they had escaped with their lives, and she hoped with every fiber of herself that this was the case. She rode with her captor at the head of the line, so she sensed that he was a perceived leader of some sort, and this was later confirmed by his sporadic issue of commands to the other men.

At midnight, the troupe stopped unexpectedly, and Ravenna was hurled to the ground by her captor, landing on the palms of her hands before them. He grunted what seemed to be an apology, before helping her to her feet again. She stood on legs that shook violently with fear and cold; she knew that her flesh had lost its rosiness, and had turned blue. She shivered, her body racking violently back and forth here; the air was frigid and unwelcome here, so it suited her company perfectly; but the land seemed otherwise bountiful, untouched by the snowstorm that had blanketed winter's dark caress over the home she had known till that afternoon. She thought for a passing moment of her family, and then blinked it away again, resolved to no longer entertain the notion of their fate, for she was not ready to lose fate amongst these men, having denied herself the comfort of tears for the duration of their journey to this unknown place.

Rubbing her hands together for warmth, she was ushered to a great tree of oak, and given a fur cape to wrap around herself. Surprised at this act that almost resembled kindness by the man who had brought her to this site, she was not sure whether to thank him, or spit in his face. He offered her a look that nearly resembled a smile, but it was not a smile she wished to grow accustomed to; it was a smile that lustful men offered to the women they wished to lie with. She grimaced at the grizzly thought, and avoided his piercing gaze.

"Come," he beckoned, and her mouth fell open in horror as his callused hands grabbed ahold of the flesh of her arms; after an instant of hesitation, he pulled her towards him, and she felt his rancid breath on her face. He called to some of his men for a length of rope and shortly thereafter, her small hands were hastily bound together, and she was instructed once more in her native language to stay there, or she would instead face a sound lashing. Without further ado, he turned on the heel of his boot to take leave of her side again.

"Wait," Ravenna pleaded, "please."

He turned to face her again, "The child speaks," he said, scratching his beard, "I thought you were mute, but have found your tongue. Such a pretty creature, I daresay, the most beautiful of your village."

She stood up again, as if to possess and assert the height she did not yet own, but hoped to acquire through growing into womanhood— if she would survive to see it.

"I wish to—" she formulated the question in her head, and countless others, but didn't know how to articulate them; she felt her knees buckle, and she fell to them before him, still shivering, despite the fur cape about her shoulders, "I wish to know your name," she finally finished, lamely.

"My name?" he repeated, incredulously, his eyes bulging outwards as if she were a scrap of meat crawling with maggots, "And what use, if any, does my name hold for you?"

"I think it is a debt owed to me," she decided, looking up at him with a newfound coldness behind her piercing green eyes.

"I am Ödhvidh, and you shall come to cherish me as your leader, and the man who has allowed you to keep your life, and prosper at my generosity."

"Ödhvidh," she repeated to herself; the strange combination of syllables harsh against her tongue, "You are King, then?"

"Yes, I am King of these barbarians who hail from the Northern lands. But we have returned from the darkness— clawing our way to find our light. But, my men grow wary; they must construct our camp, and it is my place to look after them."

"Please—"

"If you're good and quiet, you may have a spot of supper once we're settled here, my pet."

"I'm not hungry," she lied, though the growling of her stomach soon gave her away.

"You will learn to respect and obey me in time, my child," he said, "I am not used to such combative behavior," he stepped forward, his heavy boots crunching the dead leaves of the ground before him, "I am your master and commander now, my pet," he whispered, and she shuddered in terror as he stroked her cheek with his heavy hand which seemed to dwarf her entire head, and could easily crush it to a pulp.

"Don't," she whispered, wiggling free of him.

"You delight me," he whispered, "You soon will grow accustomed to my touch. It is only expected to be fearful at first."

"I do not understand," Ravenna whispered, "What is it you intend to do with me?"

"I intend to make you my queen, you little fool."

Her heart sank deep into her chest, and her moment of temporary bravery was abandoned in lieu of utter silence and complacency, as he turned from her in order to supervise the build of camp.

She bowed her head in deep melancholia, the ropes digging into the tender flesh of her wrists. Her body ached all over, and she knew that this would be only the beginning of her deep sorrows. Some hours later, her wrists were unbound, and she was brought a tray of flatbread, dried venison, and a strong tea made of roots, and told by one of Ödhvidh's followers that she was to lie with the King in his tent after she finished her meal, and would be allowed a change of clothes after the long day's journey.

To her shame, she was forced to strip naked in front of the men, and they remarked loudly about her budding breasts, and stated that they envied the King, having not been satisfied with their expansive range of options with the other captured girls.

She was dragged into the tent, but yielded her face to stone.

"Come, my child," he whispered, and she sensed his touch in the darkness, and summoned everything within her not to issue a single sound, no matter the humiliation or pain. Her mother had long warned her that this day would come, but Ravenna nor her mother could ever have envisioned that it would come so soon for her. She felt the scratch of his beard on her face as he met her mouth with his unwanted kiss, as if he were trying to devour her head. He pulled her towards him, and she felt his clumsy hands tear her new clothes to shreds, as he pulled her towards his gigantic body, and then pinned her arms to the ground, almost as if she were back home with Finn, who had climbed on top of her and wrestled her arms to her side after one of the many games they had once played. But, she had never felt so much pain, or felt breath so hot and so sour, or tasted mead in her mouth.

_"By fairest blood was it done, and only by fairest blood can it be undone."_

There was no rescue for her, no salvation from this newfound hell on earth. If this was to be her fate, then so be it. No more false aspirations, or daydreams of a life now passec with her mother. She would cut out her heart from her chest, and bury it along her stolen youth, would see it slaughtered here on this very spot. There would be no more sun for her, and no more stars; only the darkness. In snatching his own light, Ödhvidh had denied it to her, and she would abandon its glow within her, and extinguish it once and for all. She would snuff out her hope, for her breath had grown cold in her lungs.

Her own mother had failed her, for her gift was only her curse.

If beauty was her only power, then it had already betrayed her.


End file.
